Johanna and the Ballet
by MireiLovett1846
Summary: For a Christmas gift, Johanna asks to attend the ballet touring in London. Set four years prior to the events of the film. One-shot.


**Good evening, everyone. This is my second and final Christmas one-shot of the season. It involves Johanna, a ballet, and Beadle Bamford trying to dance. Enjoy the silliness. I also wrote this because I wanted to experiment with Judge Turpin and Johanna as more of a family, trying to focus on whatever fatherly side Judge Turpin may have.**

**A/N: The ballet Turpin and Johanna go see, **_**Giselle**_**, is an actual ballet from 1841.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Sweeney Todd**_** is not mine. **

* * *

Johanna and the Ballet

December 1842….

Johanna sat in her room, staring out the window. It was her favorite pastime, next to reading and daydreaming. As a girl of twelve, Johanna was prone to long flights of fancy. The latest of her daydreams involved her as the prima ballerina of the Russian Royal Ballet, the likes of which were coming to London to put on a ballet called _Giselle_. Johanna didn't know what it was about, but the ravishing dark-haired beauty on the poster captivated Johanna. Why was she smiling so enchantingly and why did her pretty white costume have wings? Johanna wanted desperately to find out.

Perhaps Papa would be willing to go with her. Christmas was coming, after all.

That night at dinner, as Johanna finished her soup, she looked up at her foster father. He was watching Beadle Bamford slurp down his third bowl of soup with a disgusted grimace. Now was a perfect time to distract him.

"Papa?"

Judge Turpin looked across the long dining table at his ward. Her blue-green eyes were staring widely at him, her pink lips pursed hopefully. It wasn't often she spoke during a meal. "Yes, Johanna?"

"I was wondering… have you seen the posters for the ballet lately?" she timidly asked.

"Indeed I have, my dear."

"Well… I… I… I would like to go to the ballet, Papa. You know, the Russian Royal Ballet? They're here in London, doing a ballet called Giselle. I would like to go very much. Please?"

"Johanna…" Turpin was about to chastise her on the lack of value of the theatre, but decided against it. She wouldn't have this sweet innocence for much longer, and he wanted to preserve that part of her for as long as he could.

"Yes, Father?"

"I'll purchase tickets tomorrow, I promise."

Johanna's pale face lit up. "Thank you, Papa!"

Beadle Bamford lifted a crumb-covered, greasy hand as though he were a schoolboy. (They had since moved on to the roast and Yorkshire pudding.) "Can I come, milord?" he asked, spraying crumbs from his mouth as he did so.

The Judge's face had turned harsh and stony. "No, you may not." he answered coldly.

Beadle pouted. "Oh, all right…." But inside his piggy little mind, wheels were slowly beginning to turn…

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

Johanna and Judge Turpin, dressed in their finest, were in the theatre waiting for the ballet to begin. Johanna was excitedly glancing about, but it was hard to choose where to look first—at the elegant silk gowns and glittering jewels of the ladies, the gilt carvings of the Greek muses all around the walls, or even at the large stage itself. It was all so exciting!

Judge Turpin was pondering the lithograph printed on the cover of the program. Perhaps all women in this ballet would be as bewitchingly beautiful and statuesque as the one illustrated. As his eye roamed the hall for any pretty women, he suddenly heard an unpleasantly familiar voice. "Good evening."

Both Turpin and Johanna turned around. Beadle Bamford, of course.

"Ah, _hello,_ my lord! It was, of _course_, by a happy accident that I should find the two of you here! Why, hello, Johanna! Aren't you excited about the ballet?" Beadle cooed. Johanna leaned as far away from the smelly, corpulent man as possible—she didn't like him, why was he always around?—and read her program with great interest.

Turpin scowled at him. "I don't give a damn what your ticket says, you are sitting _behind_ us!"

Beadle crashed into a velvet-cushioned seat behind the Judge in compliance.

After an awkward five minutes, in which Turpin had to listen to Beadle attempting to flirt with various ladies, the overture began. He heard Johanna give a little gasp of excitement and sit up as the curtain rose, exposing a pair of fancifully constructed wooden cottages.

As the ballet progressed, Turpin found himself paying very little attention to the plot and more to the dancers' physiques. The lead, who happened to be the very girl on the program's cover, had sparkling gray eyes, thick brown hair, a charming smile, and a curvaceous figure to boot. Of course, all the other dancers had long, shapely legs shown off under sheer silk skirts. Perhaps theatre and ballet were actually worth his time, he thought.

"Papa. Papa. _PAPA_!"

Judge Turpin finally tore his eyes away from the ballerinas twirling across the stage and looked at his ward in the seat next to him. "What, Johanna?"

"_Look_."

Her small index finger pointed out to the aisle, where Beadle Bamford was turning a pirouette along with the ballerinas. Unfortunately, he severely lacked their elegance, beauty, and dancing dexterity, so he looked like a complete buffoon.

"Just ignore him, Johanna." Turpin said passively. However, Beadle was getting very hard to ignore.

As he clumsily twirled past their seats, Turpin lunged across Johanna, tugging on Beadle's coat-skirts. The grossly overweight man crashed to the fine carpets.

"If you do not stop these imbecilic actions immediately, I will have you arrested and shipped off to Botany Bay on the same charge as Benjamin Barker!" Turpin hissed. Beadle Bamford wrinkled his pitted strawberry of a nose and clambered back to his seat. Turpin sat up, dusted his coat off, and found himself looking at a beautiful young woman wearing a turquoise satin gown and a befuddled look.

"Please, madam, just quieting a rabble-rouser. Don't let it disrupt the ballet for you." Turpin whispered smoothly. Her doll-china cheeks flushed as she turned back around to view the performance as normal.

Never before had Johanna seen something so magnificent. The story was so dramatic: a duke in disguise, the forbidden love of Giselle and the duke, the duke's wedding to a noblewoman, and Giselle's tragic discovery of that wedding. When she died of shock and the curtain came down to close the first act, Johanna was not at all surprised to feel tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Johanna, are you all right?" Turpin asked her, hearing her little sniffs and sobs.

"Oh, I'm fine… That's just so _tragic_, Papa! I didn't know she would die! But I hope it all resolves in the end."

Turpin was about to reply when a loud snore sounded from behind them. He turned around and saw Beadle Bamford asleep in his seat. Several ladies and gentlemen looked on in distaste.

"Excuse me…" Turpin got up, went one row behind him, and shook Beadle awake. The fat man sat up with a start, blinking and muttering gibberish to himself. "What?"

"Come with me." Turpin hoisted Beadle out of his seat and marched him up the aisle, into the lobby, and out the theatre doors.

"What are you doing?" Beadle protested as Judge Turpin shoved him outside into the bitter cold. Turpin scowled at his subordinate.

"You are ruining the ballet for everyone in attendance, but mostly Johanna. You're driving me mad, and you're a crass buffoon who has no appreciation for the arts. I'm taking matters into my own hands and saving the theater employees some trouble. _Good_ _night_."

With that, he slammed the door and went back into the house.

He sat back beside Johanna, who looked at him curiously. "Papa, what was that about?"

Turpin smiled dotingly at his ward. "It was nothing, my dear. Don't think on it."

The house lights dimmed, and the red velvet curtain lifted once more, showing them a moonlit glade and a grave. Duke Albrecht entered, and the second act began.

* * *

When the ballet ended, Johanna had leapt to her feet and applauded with unbridled gratitude and joy. It had been such a wonderful performance! Maybe she could persuade Papa to take her back next year.

Johanna and Turpin stood at the curbside, waited for the hired carriage to come pick them up. Johanna slipped one hand out of her muff and tapped Turpin on the shoulder.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Johanna?"

"Thank you for taking me to the ballet. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Johanna."

**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading. **

**~Mirei**


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